"We're taking a break." Ed grabbed a plate and stared at the arranged fruit slices. "Leonard hired you to make sure Cambria doesn't get into trouble."
"Yes?"
"Is she in trouble? She seems distracted."
"Um, I'm not exactly sure. I'm checking into that?"
Ed set his plate on the table, pushed his glasses up his nose, then ran a hand through his thick, sandy brown hair. "I know who you are. Let's not bullshit each other. I need Cambria focused on the part and nothing else. She nailed her reading today, but I can tell she's skittish about something. Calm her down."
"Okay. But Leonard wanted me to—"
"I don't care about Leonard. I only care about Cambria right now. She needs to be focused on a good delivery."
"But if she—"
"You're not listening." Ed centered his steely gaze on mine.
I recognized the look. A director's "pay close attention to what I'm saying because you're screwing up my scene" look. Calling on my fear of disappointing directors, I concentrated on Ed.
"Cambria is the racehorse, and you are her goat."
"I'm a what?"
"A stable goat calms thoroughbreds. Look it up."
"I'm a goat." I changed my tone and emphasis. "I'm a goat."
"It's not a line. I'm not giving you direction." He ran his hands through his hair and pulled on the ends. "Not that kind of direction. Just be Cambria's goat and forget this other stuff."
"Do you know about the other stuff?"
"I don't want to know." Ed grabbed his empty plate and stalked away.
Passing Ed, Leonard spotted me, rushed into the room, and closed the door. "Did you find out what the body double did?"
"It's not Pine Hollow's body double. That actress is still in LA. I'm trying to find who I saw. But Cambria isn't cooperating, the resort won't let me look around, and Ed Farmer wants me to drop the investigation so I can be Cambria's goat."
"What?" Leonard shook his head. "Ed Farmer's interfering? He's a control freak. Pain in the ass. But a brilliant pain in the ass. Do what he wants, the animal whatever, but I need you to find out what happened with the body double."
"Okay." I hated getting mixed directorial notes. A total "trying to please everyone but pleasing no one" Catch-22.
"I need to know this problem isn't going to blow up on us when we're in the middle of production. What did this body double do anyway?"
"I'm still not really sure, Mr. Shackleton. I saw a body on the floor of Cambria's room. I thought the body was Cambria. Turns out she just looks like Cambria." I paused and pushed out the bad news in one breath. "Oh, and the body appeared dead. Which is why I'm worried about it?"
Leonard stared without blinking, rooted to the spot. His ruddy complexion turned white, reddened, then paled again in a matter of seconds. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me from the food table and into a corner of the room. "Are you serious?"
I nodded. "You don't look good. Can I get you a glass of water?"
"No. But good idea." He pulled out a medicine vial, popped the top with his thumb, shook out a pill, and dry swallowed. "Talk."
I explained what happened at Cambria's villa. "And I didn't tell you at dinner because Cambria was obviously alive. I thought she had just been — you know, kinky whatever — and I had been mistaken. Especially since there wasn't a body when I returned with the police. It wasn't until I saw her nude this morning that I realized it wasn't Cambria. No birthmark."
Leonard repeated a litany of curses, then looked at me. "Okay. The police think you just saw an unconscious body. They're not getting involved."
"Right. For now, anyway. If a body shows up, they'll be on it in a heartbeat."
"But a body would have shown up by now, right?"
"I don't really know. I think I learned some statistics about that in my criminal justice classes, but I can't really—"
"I don't want statistics. And I don't want the police." Leonard shoved his hands in his pockets and began to pace. "Find Cambria's boyfriend and ask him what happened."
"Yes. And maybe you could make Cam-Cam talk to me because that would be really helpful."
Leonard spun and retraced his steps. "Cambria. I wonder—"
"And then we'll know what to do, and I can just go back to being a goat." I felt relieved to get this off my chest and have a plan. And a way to force a confession out of Cambria. Which I could report to my mother. And we'd all live happily ever after. Except for the possibly dead woman.
He stopped before me. "Ed Farmer doesn't want you to upset Cambria."
"Yes, but don't you think—"
Leonard placed a finger to my lips. "And I don't want to upset Ed Farmer. Ed is brilliant but fragile. A genius. We can't disturb a genius. Also, he's hard to control, and I choose my battles wisely when it comes to a film of this magnitude. Ed Farmer could make this movie a lot more expensive than it already is. If he has, God forbid, a breakdown or something, it will halt production indefinitely."
"So I should be the goat? Or just keep looking for Cambria's lookalike?" It was hard to get the words out with Leonard's finger mashed against my lips.
"Yes." Leonard pulled off his finger and grabbed my chin. "You've got this."
It was even harder to talk with Leonard gripping my chin. "So you'll talk to Cambria?"
"No." He bent to peck me on the cheek. "I'm glad you understand."
I didn't understand anything. Except I might be a goat.
Thirteen
#NoGoat #StripperKicks
Goat duties proved difficult when your thoroughbred wouldn't let you in her stable. Or trailer as it was. I hammered on Cam-Cam's door. She called me a few names I won't repeat. I told her she didn't mean it.
She told me she did.
I borrowed a folding chair from the makeup trailer's patio set and dragged it back to Cam-Cam's.
"Don't do anything crazy in there," I called. "If I can't be a goat for Mr. Farmer, at least let me do the job for Mr. Shackleton."
No response. I hoped it meant she was sleeping and not inhaling bath salts.
Although come to think of it, I'd not seen Cambria imbibe anything that didn't involve fair trade-cultivated, non-GMO, carb and gluten-free sustenance. Maybe my task as Cam-Cam's handler was as irrelevant as she insisted. Nevertheless, I had a contract, and she had a contract. Also, she had a possible dead body. And now Leonard Shackleton knew about the possible dead body. And had added the body's discovery to my list of babysitting duties.
It's a little hard finding a body when I actually had to babysit.
I hopped out of the deck chair and raced back to makeup. Borrowed a phone and called LA HAIR. Fifty minutes later, Tiffany and Rhonda, stood in front of the trailer. Slightly agog. Rhonda's cherubic face was tilted toward the tinted trailer window, her mouth open and chocolate brown eyes wide in adoration. Tiffany looked less impressed, but I could spot her interest in the way she squinted past the cigarette clenched between her lips.
Tiff and Rhonda were not part of my former life, so they're still fascinated with celebs. Although maybe not as much now that they knew one. An ex-one. That's how I kept it real for them.
Tiffany's blue-tipped bob swung as she swiveled from the trailer to me. "Cambria's in there right now?"
"I think she's taking a nap. But I'm not really sure since she stopped talking to me." I shrugged. "Hopefully she's not doing anything that screws up publicity or production for the movie. Although she may have done that already."
Rhonda's head had tipped back until her extensions brushed the top of her butt. "Oh, my Lord. I can't believe that's really Cambria's trailer home."
"I can't believe they make trailers like this," said Tiffany. "It's like one of those tiny houses except it's huge."
"She doesn't live there, it's just for chilling on set," I said. "There's a lot of downtime, but you have to be available."
Tiffany gave me a look.
I scrambled to explain. "Cam-Cam will have to arrive at five-ish for mak
eup and costume, but that takes a while. She'll also be waiting for lighting and sound. They'll do the same scene multiple times — maybe more after the director and producers watch the dailies — but you have to work in breaks for the crew and waiting for the special effects peeps to set up their stuff again, then cameras, lighting, and sound again. The actors have to wait somewhere. Some place quiet if they need to learn new lines or workshop their characters. Or do video conferencing and interviews."
"So they spend a lot of time doing nothing?" Tiffany squinted, revealing her expertly lined and layered eyeshadow/eyeliner combo. "In a trailer that costs ten times more than my house."
"Maybe also doing business deals for their product lines," I said. "But not everyone gets a trailer like this."
"Just Cambria." Rhonda sighed. "She's been on TMZ and E! a lot lately. She's the bad girl of Hollywood. At the moment."
"It does seem to depend on the day," I agreed. "Anyhoo, she's in there. Hopefully sleeping or practicing those lines. And she won't come out until I'm back. Hopefully."
"And they're paying you to make sure she's not in there having an Anna Nicole Smith moment?" said Tiffany.
"I guess you could put it that way."
"So why aren't you in there?"
"Cam-Cam doesn't want me in there."
Tiffany cocked a hip and placed a hand on it for emphasis.
"You're right." I sighed. "I tell myself that I don't care what she thinks about me, but I guess I do. And to be honest, I don't want to go in there. It makes me feel…not good."
"It smells?" said Rhonda.
"Jealous," I whispered.
"You miss this," said Tiffany.
"No, I don't." I chewed my lip. "Yes, I do. It's complicated."
"Oh, baby." Rhonda opened her arms, and I fell into her. "Of course, you miss it. Anyone in their right mind would miss it. You had a fabulous life. Money, power, and fame. Who wouldn't miss that?"
"I don't think she had that much power," said Tiffany. "I think her mother had the power."
"True." I sniffled and gave Rhonda another squeeze. She smelled like white musk, but also of hope. And Downey. "I don't miss that. Plus, I've always wanted to be a private investigator and here I am. Privately investigating Cambria's possibly dead body double."
"So go do your detective thing," said Rhonda. "We'll sit here and make sure Cambria doesn't leave. If she does, we'll follow her. And maybe get an autograph."
"You're the best." I gave her another hug then turned to Tiffany. Tiffany smelled like OPI and menthol. She didn't need hope because she had grit.
Tiff patted my shoulder and shoved me off. "Go find your body."
* * *
Like its name, Black Pine Golf and Yacht Club and Resort took up a lengthy bit of real estate. Stretching along Black Pine Lake, the club anchored one end and the resort the other. In the middle was the Cove. As a restaurant and bar, the Cove was open to the public. Therefore, I figured, I had not been barred from entering that property. I had Giulio meet me there with the housekeeper's uniform that would allow me to sneak into Cam-Cam's villa. When I had popped into Cam-Cam's trailer to announce I had deputized Tiffany and Rhonda, I took her key.
Cambria didn't notice me slipping her purse off the floor and behind the trailer's staircase to grab her card. Only that Tiffany and Rhonda were not Nash. Let me tell you, she had plenty to say about that. I reminded her of her insurance issues and took off.
At the Cove, I found Giulio at the inside bar, drinking a Campari and soda. His casual lean against the bar was convincing and the conspiratorial wink he gave the bartender at my entrance, unnerving.
The bartender, Alex — a.k.a. total asshat who had pimped me out to the paparazzi when I first appeared in Black Pine — spied my look and hoofed it to the other end of the bar to slice limes.
"Ciao." Giulio bent to kiss the cheek I offered, but deftly turned his head to plant a firm one on my lips. "What no tongue?"
I ignored his playacting. "Where's the uniform?"
He pointed to the bag on the floor and picked up his Campari. "Can I order you something?"
"I'm good." I had hit the craft table's snack section on my way off the set. Turns out I knew the caterer, Big Jim. I always got along well with craft caterers, another disappointment on Vicki's list. Her diet stuck to biting the hand that literally fed her.
"Thanks for this," I said. "Was it too much trouble? No ravishing of any housekeepers?"
Placing a hand on his heart, Giulio mock winced. "Darling, I didn't go near the staff. I had a better idea."
Giulio's ideas didn't win many awards. I gave him my best suspicious brow raise.
"I'm coming with you. It will be like old times. Julia Pinkerton and associate takes the case." He bowed, then slipped his arm through mine. "A sidekick is good, no?"
I slid off his arm. "You were never on Julia Pinkerton. Besides, you couldn't pull off a housekeeping act. You don't know which end of the broom to push."
"I could say the same to you." He snorted. "You forget, I also have a villa. My disguise is myself."
"No."
"Oh yes." He winked. "I get you into the resort as my guest."
I opened the bag. "What is this?" I pulled out a pair of seven-inch heels. Blue glitter platform with a clear plastic slide strap. "What the hells, Giulio. Housekeepers don't wear stripper kicks."
He grinned. "There is also a wig."
"It's pink.
"I know." He waggled his eyebrows.
I flapped a tube of black nylon and spandex at him. "This isn't even going to cover one thigh."
"I had to guess your size, but it's stretchy."
"It's not a uniform."
"In a sense, it is. Don't worry, darling, you're going to look fabulous."
"As a hooker?"
"Passeggiatrice? I'd never. You are…what do you call it?" Giulio snapped his fingers. "An escort."
"I feel so much better." I squished the bag shut. "You're lucky I'm in a hurry."
"That does not make me feel lucky. But I take what I can get. I'm so bored."
Ten minutes later I stashed my clothes and teetered into the bar, feeling like a sausage on stilts. The black lycra covered me from mid-thigh to upper chest but squeezed all my parts toward my neck. If I looked down, my chin hit my girls. I wanted to kill Giulio, but with the wig and heels, it certainly transformed me. I was unrecognizable. Nobody would see me past my boobs.
Alex did a double take, then shot toward our end. Forgetting the flip top was closed, he slammed into the bar, bounced off, opened the door, and fell out. Grabbing my arm, he hustled me out of the bar, through the foyer, and onto the parking lot.
"You can't work here. We have a dress code. Leave some business cards for my guests, and I can hand them out if they inquire. Where's your car?" Avoiding my bulging chest-ages, he craned his neck, searching for my invisible vehicle.
"Watch it, buster." I'd worked on a voice while I dressed in the bathroom. Mighty Aphrodite meets Jade from The Hangover. Alex had no idea who I really was. And it felt great to pull one over on him.
Giulio strolled out the door and tapped the bartender on the shoulder. "She's with me."
Alex swung around, red-faced. "I'm sorry, Mr. Belloni. It's just that we have a dress code—"
"Say no more." Giulio slipped a bill into Alex's vest pocket and patted his chest. "Call my golf cart. We go to the villas."
* * *
We parked at Giulio's villa — number three — and hoofed it toward number six. Hoofing it in seven-inch platforms is an oxymoron, by the way. Ten steps in and we stopped so I could barefoot it to villa six. The guest registry list told us villas seven, eight, and five were Agent Alvin Murphy's, John Doe's, and Ed Farmer's. Number four had been Vicki's, but I didn't recognize the name of the current guest.
Except for the buzzing lawn mower on the fifth green, all was quiet. Giulio took my hand, claiming it would look more "realistic." Which led to an argument about whether johns would h
old hands with hookers.
In the midst of our argument, the lawn mower cut off. A door banged behind us, muffling voices. Giulio pulled me against a tree and flattened his body over mine.
"I should look like I am overcome by passion for you," he whispered in my ear. "In case this person is watching."
"Then I'm going to look like I'm holding out for more money since doing me against a tree is extra. Get off." I pushed on his chest. "I'm not worried about guests. The costume is to get past the staff. You do this, and someone's going to report us for public indecency. That'll get us both hauled away. To jail."
"That would be a shame. Because I am really enjoying this rendezvous."
"It's not a rendezvous. Don't make me sorry I involved you. I'm about to send you back to your villa."
We tried the tiny kitchen entrance on number six. "We've got to go in through the front with this key," I said. "You go in and unlock this door for me. An escort may visit your villa, but I'm going to stick out on Cam-Cam's porch."
"I don't know about that," said Giulio. "There's much innuendo about Cambria's appetites."
"She must be playing some kind of PR game. I don't understand what happened. When I knew her, she was very serious about her craft and her studies. We were kids, of course. But I've not seen her touch anything that qualifies as toxic. People included. Unless you count Vicki."
"Vicki?" Giulio sucked in his breath. "What is Vicki doing with Cambria?"
"She wants to manage her."
Giulio swore in Italian. "I've asked her to do the same, but no. She does not want me. And this season, I'm barely on. She's using the new hires but keeps me here in Black Pine when I could be in LA, doing other jobs while I wait. I've had it with your madre, Maizie."
"You're preaching to the choir. Except I've had it with her for the last twenty-five years. Now scoot."
A minute later, he unlocked the door, and I stepped inside.
"Darling, you put the platforms back on. Grazie amore mio." He sighed. "I cannot help myself. They are vulgar, but—"
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